Never Gonna Leave This Bed
by Genevieve Darcy Granger
Summary: Being a leader means making the tough calls, but in the bedroom, Rick doesn't have to be the ones calling the shots.


If there was one thing about Rick that continuously surprised Michonne, it had to be his pride. Rick was a man used to leading, but he was never cruel about it. He had his moments where he could be obstinate, but nowadays those were few and far in between. Every time Rick was addressed with respect, he was just as respectful and courteous. Yet, the times Rick was addressed with reverence, he shied away from it.

After the war, Rick had ascended to the ranks of legend. He was a war hero – much like how Negan was now a fallen martyr. It was mostly on their few and far in between visits to the Sanctuary to check on Rosita and Tara's relief efforts of rebuilding that Michonne witnessed how the former Saviors and former workers used to view Negan. She heard the stories; and Negan's wives hadn't used a favorable light to how they painted Negan.

Tara was dating one of them, a woman named Michaela. Michonne could see why Negan would choose her to be arm candy because she was buxom and had a low pitch to her voice that thrummed warmly in Michonne's stomach. Obviously, Tara was infatuated and could hardly keep her hands to herself, but when Rick and Michonne came around Tara's face was flushed and she shoved her wandering hands into her jean pockets.

While Rick asked Tara what needed fixing and what other supplies were needed to start building greenhouses, Michaela sidled up to Michonne and surreptiously asked, "Is that Rick Grimes?"

"Yes, we've visited before. I'm Michonne."

Michaela smiled, and it was warm. "Michaela. Me and Tara are –"

"Together, yes I know. She talks about you a lot."

A pleased look crossed Michaela's face, and Michonne thought Michaela might've blushed, too, if her skin wasn't so dark. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you sooner. But Negan always mentioned Rick having curls; it wasn't until I saw his eyes that I recognized him."

Not unsurprised about Negan's own little infatuation with Rick, Michonne pushed it aside. She had no reason to be jealous when Negan was safely locked away. "You were with Negan?" It wasn't really a question, but there was an unspoken one that Michaela doubtlessly heard. _Wow, you were married to Negan? What was that like?_

"I'm not a lesbian – he didn't force me to do anything. I fuck who I want, so the sex with him was pretty good." The way Michaela's eyes drifted over to Tara again and lingered said, _But the sex with Tara is better_. Blinking, she looked back over to Michonne again and continued like it was nothing. "The perks were nice, but being treated like a walking pussy pocket wasn't my most favorite thing. I mean," Michaela scoffed and tugged self-consciously at the hemline of her low-cut sweater. It slipped off one shoulder, too many washes causing it to hang loose over her frame, and there was a hole she probably hadn't noticed in the back. Michonne wasn't going to point it out. "At least I didn't have to kneel. Well, I did do that, but that was on special occasions."

"Wait," Michonne stopped her. "He made people kneel?"

Michaela patted her scalp, another nervous gesture. "Noooo." Like a shadow, an odd look flitted across her beautiful face, and Michaela's voice was hushed when she explained. "You have to understand – Negan didn't start off by bashing people's heads. Maybe a couple of rapists and shitheads, but no one that would be missed. The men before him? They were…less than human. When Negan took charge, he didn't just start taking things. Things were given to him, and it was outta respect."

The subject was clearly uncomfortable for Michaela to talk about, but there was a frenzied look in her eye that she clearly wanted to talk about it to someone, preferably someone from the outside. "People just started kneeling to him because he saved us. They kissed his ass because of that. He took care of us. Being a wife at first wasn't so bad, but y'know, it went to his head. The burnings are when people started to realize how far he'd gone, but still. It could've always been worse."

Once she finished, Michonne's head was spinning, and she rubbed her fingertips against her palms to fight the itch to grab her katana and go back to Negan's cell. Before she could say anything, Rick approached and he held out his hand to her expectantly. She took it gladly, her fingers familiar with the spaces between his as they interlocked. "Thank you, Tara, for your help," Rick said and then nodded politely toward Michaela. "Ma'am."

Rick led her away, and they had to walk through the main floor of the Sanctuary to leave. The generators had given out some time ago without the gas to fuel them, so there were generous amounts of tallow and wax candles everywhere. Many were already lit, even in the daytime, and as Rick and Michonne walked side by side they observed those around them. There was one conspicuously decorated wall with candles like a shrine. It reminded Michonne of Gabriel's chapel, and she tugged Rick towards it, wondering if it was their makeshift religious alter to God, or maybe something to remember their loved ones.

It wasn't. Instead, it was a wall for Negan. Graffiti written by the nameless begged for his return as if he were a messiah. _A Savior_ , Michonne ruefully corrected herself. At her side, Michonne could feel how Rick stiffened beside her, his hands in hers squeezing tight. A few of the Sanctuary's occupants saw where they were looking and seemingly crept out of the shadows, willing to challenge. A former Savior that Michonne recognized from the war stepped up to the plate. He was tall – taller than Rick – and broader, too, and much hairier now that Rick had shorn his locks like a summer lamb.

"These gardens," the man started, "these gardens that you've made us grow to feed ourselves? They're not working. The soul is shit, it's just no damn good. And now you want us to try greenhouses? We're hungry; the crops are failing. We need you to give us food to –"

"To provide for you?" Rick swiftly cut him off. Michonne let go of his hand, and Rick took that as permission to walk forward until he was toe to toe with the nameless accuser. "To give you half of what we have because it…you think it belongs to you?" Rick's tone is mocking, and his surety and cockiness sets off that familiar thrum of warmth in Michonne's belly. "No, no, that's not how the world works; not anymore. Everyone pulls their fair share and if you don't work, you don't eat. It's history. Worked for the pilgrims and they started from nothin'. It'll work for us, too."

When he paused, Rick looked around at the growing number of onlookers. Much of them were like Michaela; raggedy clothes, maybe old scars of malnourishment, but none of them were starving yet. There was still time and the greenhouses could really work. But many of their faces were dirty, smudges of purple under their dead eyes signaling exhaustion and despair. Rick's spine straightened and he set his shoulders, and Michonne recognized it. Rick was going to speak to them, to comfort them, because that's what he was good at.

"I know we haven't always been on the same side – but these days, we have to be. All of our hearts are still beatin' and the world is ours to rebuild. Outside of your walls is the same thing that's outside of Alexandria's walls, and the Hilltop's, and the Kingdom's, and the Heaps', and Oceanside's. The dead walk, and they don't care if you're a savior or not. Meat is meat. But we're not just waitin' to die; we fight and we work, and we survive and do more than that; we get to live.

"But I know the Sanctuary isn't used to growin' things. This place is safe, and we can't force you to leave, so we're goin' to try to make this place work for you. The greenhouses will work, and we're goin' to get more things for you to make sure it does. I promise you, it will work."

At first there was silence, but then it was like a ripple over the crowd as they mulled over Rick's speech, digested it, and then fully took it to heart. The flickering of the candle wicks shed light on their open faces, and for the first time in a long time, these people had hope again. Roused up, a woman from the back shouted, "God bless you, Rick Grimes!"

Others echoed her, and even the savior who questioned them stepped toward Rick again and shook his head. "Thank you, Rick Grimes, for saving us."

And though this was hardly the first time Rick was received with gratitude, when Michonne caught sight of his face, she saw it was flushed a fetching shade of pink, and he had a pinch in his mouth cast and lined with embarrassment.

* * *

The ride home, Rick was quiet, but the others teased him from their horses. Daryl, Michonne, and Carol took turns calling after him, "The famous Rick Grimes!"

"Kiss my baby, Rick Grimes."

"Bless me, Rick Grimes."

"Sign my crossbow, Rick Grimes."

"Are you finished?" Rick asked dryly, his eyebrow arched high. "I'm sure every walker from miles around heard how y'all were carryin' on."

"Let us have our fun, honey," Carol spurred her gentle yellow-coated mare Buttercup forward to trot side by side with Rick's brown stallion Buttons. "This is just like back at the prison. Except back then it was Daryl who was getting all the hero worship." Carol had that little twist in her mouth, like the cat who got the cream, and all their eyes turned towards Daryl.

"Don't start back up that shit again with me. I ain't no war hero."

"I'm not either." Rick leaned forward and stroked a hand down Buttons' neck, avoiding their all of their eyes. "It takes more than just one man to win a war. We were all in it."

"Mhm," Daryl grunted, "but you were the one that slit that bastard Negan's throat."

A strange look crossed Rick's face, a pinch in his brow and a pout in his mouth. "Maybe if I hadn't things wouldn't be so bad at the Sanctuary now. They need leadership."

"And they have it," Michonne assured him. "You. You're the one leading all of it."

She could tell that Rick wanted to argue further, that he wanted to say, _But I don't want to be the leader anymore_. Instead of saying anything, though, Rick just clenched his jaw and let it go. Michonne could see the tenseness in his shoulders again and how his knuckles blanched white as he gripped the reins hard.

 _Tonight_ , Michonne mused to herself, _he's going to give the reins to me_.

* * *

Leadership was a lot to ask of a man, and it meant putting everyone else above personal stuff. They had discussed that before, how if it came down to it, Rick would leave Michonne to die if it meant he could save others. But that was what was expected of him; and he had to be the one to make the hard choices that others weren't brave enough or wise enough to make. Rick shouldered this burden, more than anyone else, but there were times that he wanted to be the one who didn't have to choose anymore.

That's why when it came to what happens in the sanctity of their bedroom, Rick left everything to Michonne. Tonight, Michonne had Judith sleep over at Aaron's house for a sleepover with Gracie. After a romantic dinner of vegetable stew and a shared bottle of red wine that they had been saving for an occasion like this, Michonne led Rick to the bedroom. "We'll do the dishes tomorrow," she told him, one hand snaked inside his half-unbuttoned tan shirt already to tweak one of his nipples into a hardened peak and her mouth laving wet kisses up the side of his neck.

"Y-yeah," Rick stuttered, his eyes squeezed shut as even now he fought to stifle his groans. "In the mornin'."

With a sharp nip to his earlobe, Michonne corrected, "Whenever we get out of bed, if we ever get out of bed." Then before Rick could protest because he had meetings to attend and crops to tend to and a million other things on his mind, Michonne silenced him with a kiss, and then backed him up to the bed. Their bed. It still made the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile at that. She slipped off her wedding ring and tucked it into the bedside drawer, and Rick followed suit. Then there were on each other again, all tangled up legs and hungry mouths.

"Michonne," Rick panted into her dark skin after they were both hastily stripped each other naked. He licked his lips, pink sliding over pink, and Michonne's mind instantly went to picturing Rick's face buried between her thick thighs. "Michonne, I need you."

"Yeah, baby?" Michonne's palms rubbed over Rick's closely cropped hair, and she briefly mourned the loss of his curls as she oftentimes found herself doing. Still, she liked his hair short like this, too. She couldn't tug him like she liked and hear him moan that way, but his hair was soft against her palms, and a scratch of her nails over his scalp still got the same resulting moan anyway. "How do you want me?"

"I..." Rick cast his eyes down, his long eyelashes fluttering against his high cheekbones. Michonne dragged her hand down the side of his face and cupped his cheek, and he looked back at up her again. She felt his skin heat up under her palm, and then she saw the pink spread down his cheeks to his slightly fuzzy chest. "I wanna make you feel good. I wanna eat you out."

"You wanna eat my pussy?" Michonne kissed around his mouth, and his lips chased hers for a real kiss instead of the teasing little ones she peppered across his chin and nose.

"Yes," Rick's voice was hoarse. "I wanna make you come with my mouth. Just my mouth."

Possessively, Michonne splayed her fingers over his chest, pushing him back far enough so that they could look each other in the eye. His heart was hammering wildly underneath her touch, and she never felt so alive. "No fingers?"

"No fingers."

"Go get the handcuffs."

A full-body shudder racked Rick's frame, but he did as he was told. The handcuffs were a favorite toy of theirs, and they were also just plain useful. Rick often carried them with him, but besides being used on him, the only other person to have worn them was Negan. That was just during bath times, though.

Michonne heard the metallic rattling as Rick unclipped them from his jeans and then he was shyly pressing them into her hands. Without any prompting from her, he turned around on the bed and held his hands behind his back. He used to get handcuffed with his hands in front of him, but Michonne caught him once touching himself without permission, so from then on, they were always worn from the back.

The handcuffs clicked around his wrists, and Michonne tugged the small connecting chain until Rick's bare back was flush against her naked chest. Her nipples instantly budded against the skin between his shoulder blades, and she grinded against him, enjoying the feeling. His restrained hands pressed low against her stomach, but she kept her hips pushed back so that he couldn't touch her intimately. "Too tight?"

"No." Rick gave a testing flex of his fingers. "I'm good."

"Good." Michonne scattered kisses across the back of his neck and his shoulders, sucking hickeys into his pale skin where only she would be able to see.

Valiantly, Rick tried to keep still, but he squirmed with need under her touch and the brush of her dreadlocks against his skin was always ticklish for him. "Mi-Michoooonne," he whined, and his hips rutted forward into the air, desperate for friction. "Please," he finally said, and only then did she relent.

Lifting her head, Michonne peeked over, her chin hooked over his shoulder. "Look at your pretty cock, Rick." Just as she said, Rick tilted his head down until his chin touched his chest. "Your cock is just beautiful, Rick. So pink and hard for me, baby."

He let loose a high-pitched, one-note whine, and they both watched as Rick's cock twitched. Precome oozed at the slit into a dot like a small jewel, but Michonne did not reach for him yet. "Do you still want to lick my pussy, baby?"

"Yes, please," Rick whispered.

"Good boy." She released her grip on his handcuffs and moved over to the head of the bed. Briefly she fluffed their pillows up and then propped herself against them, the wooden headboard cool against her back. Once she was comfortable, she spread her long legs wide open, hooking her ankles over the edge of the bed. Rick did not move from where he knelt, but his eyes dropped open to her wet slit and his head swayed forward before he caught himself and straightened his posture again. Between his legs, his cock gave a visible throb, and he bit his bottom lip to keep from begging, but that was exactly what she wanted.

"You want this, baby?" Michonne used one hand to spread her lips, revealing her engorged bud. Using one finger, she tapped her clit and then circled it gently, teasing herself to tease him. Her gash of pink was glistening and stood out in stark contrast compared to her dark skin, and she could feel her juices trickling down onto the bedspread below her. Meanwhile, her other hand cupped her chest, brushing her thumb back and forth over her hard, brown nipples.

"Please, Michonne," Rick begged so sweetly. "Lemme taste you."

Slowly, a smile spread across her face. "Come here," she relented, and then had to bite back a laugh at how fast Rick scrambled over on his knees to get to her. Somehow, he still managed to look dignified, though, even with the hard-on he was sporting.

As proud as Rick Grimes was, he bowed his body over hers and switch from thigh to thigh to press kisses on the way up to the wet juncture of her legs. She pulled her hand away to give him all the access he needed, and tended to her other, neglected nipple. Rick took a deep breath, inhaling her musky femininity, and then used his nose to cut a path between her labia and lick a stripe from perineum to clitoris. Together, they both moaned at that, and then Rick concentrated on just licking up every drop that dripped from her as if it were honey.

"Mm," Michonne rested her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes, enjoying the soft sensation of his warm, wet mouth on her. His beard left behind a pleasant tingle, too, the wiry, coarse texture building up to slow burn. "Fuck, Rick, that feels so good. Your mouth is so perfect on me, baby."

Michonne chanced a glance down at him, and Rick was already staring back up to her. His pupils were blown open wide, but his eyes also sparkled. He was teasing her, licking her everywhere except where she needed him. Occasionally, he would rock his face forward and the tip of his nose would brush against her clit, but she needed more pressure than that and she wanted to feel his tongue press inside her intimately.

"Rick," Michonne's voice was sharp with a breathless gasp, "Rick, are you gonna make me come, baby?"

Using just his chin, Rick rubbed up against her clit, his mouth free to answer her. "I wanna make you come, Michonne," he answered, and his drawl sent vibrations through her pelvis, that pleasant tingle steadily building up higher toward her release.

"Then make me come, Rick. Use your pretty mouth, baby. Make me come with your kisses."

Obediently, Rick ducked his head back down between her legs, and this time he snaked his tongue inside of her opening. It was nearly enough as his fingers would've been, but he knew how to twist and flick the tip of his tongue to get her to rock her hips with the movement, and with his face buried against her so tight, his nose was like striking a match against an oil drum over and over.

This time it was Michonne that was whimpering as she got closer and closer to the edge, but couldn't quite get herself off it yet. "More, Rick. I need more. I want you to make me feel good."

Spurred on by her encouragements, Rick pulled away and focused his efforts on her clit, swirling his tongue around it over and over again. The difference in pressure was instantaneously for Michonne, and she knocked her heels against the mattress as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Finally, Rick closed his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked in one hard kiss, and instantly Michonne's hands gripped the back of his head and held him as she bucked her hips up into face and rode him through her climax. "Yesss, Rick," she hissed, and her thighs nearly smothered him until all her muscles weakened and she went limp against the bed again.

Breathless, Rick hid his face against her thigh for a moment as he, too, caught his breath. To comfort him, Michonne petted her fingers through his short hair from his forehead to the back of his neck. The scrape of her blunt nails against him was enough to send small shivers down his spine. "You alright, baby?"

Rick nodded against her skin before he finally lifted his face up, revealing how shiny his was from her juices and how they had all caught in his full, bushy beard. "I'm glad that I pleased you."

"Yes, you did, baby." She crooked her finger at him to come up and kiss her, and Rick managed to lift himself on his knees, his cock still hard and needy, and lean his face forward to share a sweet kiss with her that quickly turned heated.

"You want the handcuffs off yet, baby?" Michonne broke the kiss to ask, looking up at him expectantly.

"No, I want to keep them on."

"Are you going to let me take care of you now?"

Rick's handsome face darkened with lust, his eyes burning bright like stars in contrast. "Please."

Cupping his face with both hands, Michonne hushed him with a bruising kiss to his pouty bottom lip. "Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna take care of you." As she drew him in for another kiss by the firm grip she had on his chin, Michonne snaked her other hand down his waist and then smacked his rear hard enough that a solid _Crack!_ split through the air. Rick cried out against her mouth, and she swallowed the noise quickly before she pulled away and hummed. "Bend over the bed for me, baby. Feet on the floor."

All too eager, Rick quickly assumed the position, and Michonne followed after him more slowly, her limbs drowsy post-orgasm. The sight of Rick's plump ass in the air, though, and the rapidly reddening shape of her hand against his skin reinvigorated her, though, and Michonne bit her bottom lip to keep from groaning.

"We're going to use just my palms tonight," she explained, smoothing her hand over the sting to rub the hurt away.

"Okay," Rick croak, his voice only slightly muffled by the bed covers. His shoulders were drawn tight in anticipation, and Michonne continued to rub her fingertips into his cheeks until she saw him relax under her touch.

"Ten counts. Out loud."

"Okay," Rick repeated, and nodded, too, and Michonne knew that he had been craving this, but was too shy to outright ask.

When Michonne pulled her hand away, Rick knew it was coming, but he still stayed relaxed. And then she brought her palm back down hard.

"One," he grunted.

"Good, that's good, Rick," Michonne praised him, gave him a moment, and then did it again, just as hard.

"Two," he counted, and this time, his hips bucked against the mattress. His dick was trapped between his belly and the bedspread, and while it would be stimulation, it wouldn't be enough for him to come, so Michonne wasn't worried.

Her hand came down again, this time on the other cheek.

"Three," Rick gasped, and his fingers clawed at the air. Michonne couldn't help but reach forward and grab one palm, and he latched onto her immediately, grateful for the contact.

Another one, and Rick took a moment to breathe through his nose before he counted. "F-four."

Michonne's palm was already stinging, and she took a moment, she smoothed her hand down the outside of one of his thick thighs, a comfort to both of them. Then she struck again, exactly over the same spot as last time.

"Fuck!" Rick sharply cried out, and then quickly corrected himself once Michonne gave a tug on his handcuffs, "Five!"

This time she alternated her strike to the other cheek again. His color was already going red.

"Six," Rick mumbled into the mattress and then just to make sure that Michonne heard him, he lifted his head and repeated, "Six."

Letting go of his hands, Michonne stroked her hand down his back. "Over halfway there, baby. I know you can do it." She saw his head bob in a nod, and then spanked him again with her other hand.

"Se-ven," Rick stretched the word out, and his hips wiggled from side to side. Michonne's eyes were drawn to the movement and how he jiggled, and she unconsciously licked her lips, knowing what she wanted to do to him after this.

"These last three are going to come all at once, baby," she warned, and then did exactly that; three strikes in quick succession.

At first Rick cried out wordlessly, but then he managed to grit between his teeth, "Eight, nine, ten." And then he virtually collapsed, allowing his body to sink into the mattress.

She was on him in an instant, pressing kisses, and asking him if he was still okay and if he need the handcuffs off, but Rick took a deep, shuddering breath and he then assured her he was fine. Not even any tears for her to kiss away.

"Michonne," he began, his voice rough in his throat with outright need. "Please, I wanna come for you, baby."

"You're gonna come for me, Rick," she assured him. "Tonight, you're going to be the one doing the taking."

Her words had an instantaneous effect on him as he groaned and then spread his legs further. "Please, please, fuck me, Michonne. Fuck me."

"I will, baby." Michonne climbed back off the bed again, but did not immediately go for the closet where they kept the blue strap-on. Instead, she kneeled down at eye-level with Rick's ass and when she smoothed her hands up his thighs to give his cheeks a greedy squeeze, Rick sucked in a breath at what was coming next. "But first, I'm going to eat you. No fingers. Just tongue." And then she pulled his cheeks open, revealing his wrinkled bud and smoothly licked over it, causing him to moan louder than he had been all night so far.

Groaning into his ass, Michonne flicked her tongue over the rim over and over, pressing her face close, and Rick was shaking with effort as he restrained himself from bucking back against her face. This was something that took a lot of convincing on Rick before he finally tried it with Michonne, but it quickly became one of his favorite acts of foreplay. She could neglect to touch his cock the entire time, but he could come just from her mouth alone. But Michonne had promised to fuck him, so Rick knew he didn't have permission to come, but that was just getting harder and harder to fight as he cock only got harder and harder, too.

As Michonne licked her broad stripes over him, he started to open up for her, and soon she worked her tongue inside, copying his movements from earlier. The tip of her tongue flicked, and she tongue fucked him open and Rick's moan were only getting more frequent. His sounds of pleasure where getting her wet again, and that tingling sensation started up again, too.

"Michonne," Rick keened, and he had his hands balled up into fists, useless in the air as restrained as he was. "Please, stop teasing me, baby. Just fuck me already. Gimme what I want, gimme what I need."

Sitting back on her heels, Michonne wiped the stray spit from her chin and admired her handiwork. His ass was scarlet, and he was gaping and dripping for her. He'd need to be worked open a little more and he could use a little more lube, but his balls were heavy and his cock was hard and redder than his ass. He couldn't wait any longer. She stood up again, and leaned over him, and then spat on his asshole – something she's never done before. Rick felt it, and heard it, and quickly connected the dots of what happened, and he moaned a little. Good. She's glad he liked it.

Quickly, Michonne grabbed the half-full bottle of lube (strawberry flavored) from the bedside drawer and the strap-on from their closet. Rick knew better than to try and sneak a peek, so he remained bent over the bed, waiting as patiently as he could. Even when he heard the cap pop off of the bottle or the soft tinkling of the buckles as Michonne hooked the strap-on into place around her pelvis, Rick just pressed his lips together and breathed through his nose. He was broken out of his calming trance when Michonne's low voice softly commanded him, "Roll over on your back and let me see you, baby."

With a slight wince, Rick did as he was told, and when he was settled, the blankets were blissfully cool against his reddened cheeks. It was a little awkward with his hands still cuffed behind his back, but the angle of it would let her slide in deeper, he knew from experience. Then Rick looked past his jutting erection at Michonne standing naked except for her lubed-up strap-on, which size was slightly bigger than Rick's own dick, and Rick was squirming again on the mattress in anticipation. "Please, Michonne, please fuck me hard. No teasin'. Please."

Instead of stepping between Rick's eagerly spread legs, Michonne by-passed them to crawl up on the bed beside Rick. "Did you forget who was in charge here, baby?"

"No," Rick quickly answered.

"Good. Then you'll know that good things come to those who wait." Michonne bent over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and then sat back up again, thoughtfully holding her makeshift dick in her hand. It was practically dripping with wetness, but Rick knew that Michonne wasn't one to let good lube go to waste. Still, he was curious as to what she was doing.

Rick got his answer when Michonne straddled his torso and sat down on his stomach, his erection unable to reach her to garner any pleasurable friction. "Open your mouth for me, baby. I want to fuck those pretty pink lips a little."

Tilting his face forward, Rick opened his mouth wide, a quiver of excitement dancing over his nerves like lightning. Ever so slowly, Michonne guided her strap-on, brushing the bottom of it over Rick's chest, and then popped the tip of it into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it, enjoying the taste of it like sugary, strawberry jam, and then she pulled it free with a wet pop and repeated the action all over again. It was slow and sensuous, and Michonne petting her fingers though his hair and beard as she did it, cooing praises.

"Look at you, my pretty boy, doing such a good job for me. You have such a talented mouth, Rick, and you look good like this, sucking on something sweet. So handsome, so beautiful, just for me. Such a muscular chest," her palms dropped to his pectoral muscles and she pushed them together slightly, and Rick moaned around the strap-on, blushing pink, when he realized that she was simulating a tit-fuck.

"Absolutely gorgeous, baby," Michonne moaned, and this time pressed her hips forward, forcing the strap-on deeper down his throat until he gagged around it and she quickly drew back. He sputtered and coughed, and she took his face between her hands. "Are you okay, Rick?"

"Yes," he wheezed and then cleared his throat so he could answer more confidently. "Yes. Please, Michonne, please."

"What do you want, baby?" She teased.

"You know what I want."

In admonishment, she lightly tapped her palm against his cheek. "You have to say it. I want to hear you say it. Beg me."

"Please," Rick whined, "Please, fuck me, Michonne. Fuck me hard until I scream. Make me never want to leave this bed."

With a teasing lilt to her warm smile, Michonne said, "I can do that." She slid off his body, her ass brushing against his cock in a tease as she climbed off.

Once she was standing between his legs, she placed her palms on his thighs and forced him to spread himself wider for her. More lube was needed for the strap-on again, and then she added a generous dollop right over his hole, too, which immediately sucked it in with an unconscious flutter of muscles due to the cold liquid. She took it in hand again, and looked up at his hotly blushing face. "Are you ready for it?"

"Yesss," Rick hissed and barely managed to not buck his hips down onto it, "Please."

Not willing to keep Rick waiting any longer, Michonne started the smooth decent and Rick took it to the hilt with a breathless shout. She gave him a moment to adjust before she repeated the action over and over, making sure that he was properly opened up before she increased the pace. Soon, she had him screaming and he couldn't stop the buck of his hips even if he wanted to as he moaned deliriously.

Michonne gripped his inner thighs and squeeze, sure to leave fingerprint bruises for later, and she was entranced by watching the blue dick disappear inside of him over and over. Rick's own dick bounced with the movement, and she wasn't going to touch it at all to get him to come. The flush of his chest and cheeks were as red as his dick, and his muscles tensed and flexed just as much as his flesh jiggled. He was beautiful laid out like this, and he was made for taking dick.

"Beautiful," Michonne's raggedly panted, switched over to shallower thrusts as she targeted his prostate. "If only everyone could see you now…the famous Rick Grimes in handcuffs with his ass spanked red. The famous Rick Grimes with his lips pouting around a blue dick. The famous Rick Grimes, on his back, dick up his ass, who's going to come for me with his cock untouched."

Rick's brilliant eyes connected with Michonne's teasing ones, and she could see the effect she was having on him. It was praise, but Rick was still embarrassed by it in his pleased sort of way. But still, Michonne couldn't resist it.

"The famous Rick Grimes likes to be such a good boy for me, and he does what he's told so that he can come. Isn't that right, Rick?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, and didn't dare look away from her.

"Are you my good boy, Rick?"

"Yesss," he drawled out. Without her expecting it, he repeated, "I'm your good boy."

"Are you going to come for me, baby?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Then come for me," Michonne urged, and bucked her hips into him sharply, "Come for me right now, baby, right now."

"Fuuuck, Michonne," Rick cried out and then painted his chest white with come as he came on command. Gently, Michonne fucked him through it and helped him ride it out. He was a work of art when he came, the passion and euphoria written boldly across his red face and then painted in the white come dripping off his chest and stomach. Just watching him, Michonne felt a spike in her own arousal, but she pushed that aside for now. That was an intense session; Rick was probably ready to call a quits.

Pulling out, she briefly watched Rick's gaping hole flutter around nothing in the aftershocks of his orgasm, and then she unhooked the strap-on and tossed it aside to be cleaned up later. She helped Rick to roll over on his side, and then she took off the handcuffs. He brought his hands in front of his face again, checking for welts though there were a few red marks, and then he rubbed them to soothe the ache and cramp. Michonne went to the bathroom for a washcloth and tenderly wiped away all traces of Rick's come and the lube still leaking from his ass. Using the clean side, she wiped it over herself, too, and then tossed it with the rest of their dirty clothes. Lastly, she pulled the covers out from underneath Rick's heavy body and they climbed into bed together properly, reclining on the fluffy pillows in post-coital bliss.

Michonne cuddled up into Rick's side, her head mostly pillowed on his chest, and she traced her fingertips around his nipples and then down to circle his navel in a lazy fashion. He had an arm around her shoulder, his thumb twitching back and forth across her skin, and he didn't complain about her dreadlocks itching against him. Rick had nearly dozed off into sleep when Michonne broke the silence with a pleased little purr. "The famous Rick Grimes." She snuggled against him more, already leaving no space between their bodies.

Rick managed to pull himself back to wakefulness again to softly chide her, "Don't you start that again."

And then they both drifted off to sleep, and they didn't leave their marriage bed for a long time the next day.


End file.
